My name is Elmer. I'm a horse.
Okay, I know what you're thinking: a talking horse? Yeah, I've seen that episode and his name was ED, not ELMER. What a rip-off. But I am deadly serious. My name is Elmer and I'm a horse.
And then comes the almighty question: Elmer? Like Elmer Glue? Yes, exactly like Elmer Glue, you mindless biped boob. Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I've got a bit of a short temper with you humans. I mean, you're just so irritating! You nail iron to our feet (which, by the way, SO hurts. Come on, why don't you try to jam a nail in YOUR toenail?), you jam nasty-tasting metal into our mouths, sling your fat selves onto our backs, AND chop off our man-parts – THAT'S JUST SICK! My uncle Bob's-yer-apple was never the same again after you did that! I was lucky; I ran the races, I was a fast mother and NOW… neglect. You vile, evil, evil humans!
Okay, now I'm just getting all hot under the collar. Sorry, there was mold in my oats and I tried to tell my… grr… maaaaaster… grr… but he was all "Shut up, you stupid horse and eat the damn oats!" so, being insanely hungry as I was, I did. And, wouldn't you know it? I got an intestinal infection that hurt as bad as gettin' shoed. Now here I am, on Glue Road, just cause when the idiot got his gun to try and shoot me to "put me out of my misery" I bit a chunk out of his face. Then, of course, all of us got in on it. But who can blame me? It was self-defense and, if'n I was any human out there I'd be acquitted so fast!
Yeah, that's the problem with all of you humans out there. Let's hear it for equal rights, yay, whoop-dee-do, fair trial for all, but the second a horse eats a man, oh no, he's got rabies, he's crazy, he's got the sleeping sickness or mad cow disease or tsetse fly disease or whatever and, yeah!, let's go chop him up into little pieces and feed him to the hogs. That's just sick, people. They do that in Europe, you know. Oh, I know that they said that they stopped doing that but, believe me, they still do. Now who's in the wrong? Me takin' a chunk outta someone trying to kill me or you people, in good conscious, feeding animals to other ignorant animals who don't know what's what or what's goin' on. Glad I'm not in Texas, that Godforsaken place, or someone'd be eating me and my mom right now. Yee-haw, right? Right.
Hey, I'm wondering how anyone can even say what I did was wrong. I'm just a "dumb animal," now aren't I? That's what everyone says, isn't it? Or I'm all beautiful but I don't know what I'm doing, blah, blah, blah because, if they're gonna hide behind animals have no equal rights than am I not justified in hiding behind me being an animal?
Oh, and this isn't the first time an animal has eaten a person. We got all those poor animals being fed their own kind for one. And then, of course, that king in ancient Greece. He fed his horses the bodies of his slain until dumb old Hercules popped on along and fed him to his own horses. Ain't that ironic? Either way, whatever happened to those horses? No body knows but chances are that someone (hey, we all know that the ancient Greeks were a lot smarter than the commonplace apes that evolved (ha hah! "Evolved" – ironic, no?) into their place now. Sad that, as time goes on, the human race becomes even stupider. Well, sad for you, I suppose. The dumber you get, the sooner horses will rule the world and I am all about my kind ruling over you hairless apes.) said "Wow, those are some nice horses. We'll give them better food than nasty humans (which do leave a most unpleasant taste on one's tongue; it's worse than moldy oats) because they're so very, very awesome." Where is my rehabilitation center? Why am I not going to greener pastures? Don't I deserve it? Was I not taken from my mother at a very early age and forced to race around in small circles against my brethren for your amusement? Someone owes Old Elmer something!
There's another thing: reciprocity. I've given mankind the best years of my life and then, Old Elmer makes one mistake and he's sent off to the glue factory. What kind of gratitude is that? Am I to believe that this is the world I've been born into? I cannot and, quite frankly, I might be a bit glad to leave it.
Ah, but I lie. Truth is, death frightens me to no end. Every vision I have of life is mine, no one else's. If I am to die, will this world be gone? And what will I see? Blackness, forever? Will I awaken in hell, since an animal is supposed to have no soul? But, no soul? Some of the greatest brutes in history, most slanderous of the holy, have souls, guaranteed, no charge, that they can do with as they will, but, just because I am an animal, I have none? That makes no sense. I have eyes to see, senses to feel, heart and mind. Perhaps mine is not so faulty as yours, little human, but it is a perceptive one, yes, indeed. And think, for a minute, what my sight and perception is like compared to yours. You see me, a fine specimen of a creature, with my eyes conveniently placed on either side, walking most sturdy on four legs, and consider me inferior. I speak in a tongue you do not understand and, rather than attempt to learn my language and customs, you call me dumb and go around me or bend me to your will when it is I that should be most perplexed by you! You who stands shakily on two legs, can only see danger in one direction, and has most fragile skin as well as a mind that thinks not of life's matters but your own and how to gain over other creatures, including those of your own kind. That's voluntary cannibalism, that's what it is! And, really, what else could it be? I live peacefully among mine, sharing what is ours, not what is mine, never incurring the wrath of others, setting boundaries, limitations, prejudice against others because their flanks are a darker shade, their nostrils flare a bit too wide, their eyes have a green tint when mine have a yellow, or their hair is a bit more coarse. What sense does that stupidity make? I have consulted with many fine mares in my day, ones who have lived long and know much, but yet they cannot tell me as to why you humans do that, do anything for a matter. At first, it was justified by food and shelter; we all know that every animal needs that, but then you went to excess! What, did you want to bloat your bellies? That merely breeds ill tolerations towards walking and sickness and who wants to be sick in their own food? Not any self-respecting horse, that is! Oh, then food wasn't even the issue any more, was it? It was shelter! Let's have a lot, enough for everyone – and then half the population! Excess, excess! Is that all it is for you humans? Can you not be content with ONE piece of material? If I had my way, I'd trample the lot of you and throw up dirt on your jiggly bodies. Never thought you'd hear a horse say that, did you? Never thought we had any intentions of that sort, did you? Oh, be honest – you never even thought we had minds to reason with! What? Now are you going to hunt out horses because we're "too dangerous"? Well, let me inform you, master human, that every creature on the earth, including yourself, is a danger to you. You've alienated yourselves completely so it's no one else's fault but your own. And, if you fall asleep with both eyes closed, chances are the very insects will scurry out to squash you.
Ah me, ah me, on the very pit of death and wasting breath on you humans! I would that I could forget you but, no, no you all have ingrained yourself too deeply in my side, like a large burr. And is that not what you are, a burr? A thorn in the very side of society, of the world? Yes, of course you are. And here I am about to leave you all to go over to the other side of existence and I'm thinking about you. What a pity. Why do I not see the pleasant images of the mare that birthed me, the mare that birthed my kin, the stallions that ran free with my race, all of my life and existence flashing by? Because you stole it! I cannot recall one moment of my people because you overpower them. I was barely with my mother for a few days, barely with my mate for a few hours, never with my kin but for those I met in the stables and race tracks who shared my sad stories! You, my humans, have wiped out every single memory and connection to my people. Are you satisfied? Does this make you feel good? I hope so because, otherwise, my pain has done nothing to this world, only to myself. If it effects another person mayhap it will effect more and more.
There come the men with their tranquilizers and leads, coming up closely and to the sides, as if I did not notice them! Mayhap I will be like Custard – insignificant in life but dying in a blaze of glory! Yes, I think I will. The Great Chicago Fire will live in infamy forever but will be overshadowed by the glory in which I die. They will remember Old Elmer maybe not as a magnificent horse who suffered throughout his life but as a dumb beast that set thousands of acres on fire. Fools. Wooden barn, little to no rain in the past two months, coming at me in the middle of night with an old fire lantern. Idiots, idiots. I hereby apologize if any of my brethren die before they wished to in my fire but, at the very least, their souls will be free from human oppression. I bid you all good-bye.
- Elmer, the horse